


Graves Goes To Hell

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Come Marking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Facials, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sleep Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Graves was not a good man. Not really even a nice one. He had seen, lived things no man should ever see or live.It was with this justification that he allowed such beauty in his life, crept down to Credence’s bedroom at night, peeked in to see his pale face, his blankets, thrown back in the hot New York August, his sleep shirt, crinkled and accidentally shifted to reveal his soft, pretty cock.He was only looking.*Credence is beautiful, and oblivious. Graves is increasingly desperate, and starts visiting Credence at night.





	1. Chapter 1

Credence, to his credit, had no damn  _ clue  _ what he was doing. 

Graves growled, cock growing thick in his trousers as he tried to ignore Credence’s cute ass, crawling around on the floor for the quill he dropped. 

Of course, there  _ was  _ a simple summoning charm for that. Graves didn’t think it was important to mention.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves! Oh, where could it-? There!”

Sweet Merlin, no. 

It was under his desk. Graves felt like crying as the sweet boy dove right under the table, inbetween his legs. So eager, so desperate for a reward-

Graves pressed his heels against the floor, pushing his chair back with a screech. 

“Credence-!” 

“Got it!”

Credence rested a hand on Graves’ thigh (perilously close to his cock) and reached under his chair for the quill. Instead of crawling back, he smiled up at Graves shyly, placing it on his desk. 

“Sorry.”

“Q-quite alright, my boy. Excuse me for a moment.”

Graves was spending quite a bit of time in the toilets. Credence was worried he was sick.

*

Graves had, quite stupidly, thought he was flirting. He’d been flattered, a bit worried, before growing to return the feeling. His boy would flutter about his (big, empty) house, leaving notes and drawings and strange foldings of paper for Graves to smile at when he got ready for work.

Innocent. Harmless. And then it got worse.

When two men lived in a house together, sometimes things happened. Credence, so unused to impure thoughts, would trail after Graves in an unbuttoned shirt, chattering on about some letter from Newt or Tina, the morning sun making him frightfully inviting and achingly oblivious.

And oblivious he was. 

He was so damn  _ beautiful,  _ was the problem. 

Men on the street gave him a look and kept looking, and women would make excuses to bump into him or drop their hats. Once, an actualist had demanded they stop and walk by again, setting up his huge, boxy experiment of a no-maj camera. 

Simply dreadful. And Credence hadn’t the foggiest  _ idea. _ He would smile nervously at men, rush to help a woman with her bags, and wouldn't  _ dare to inconvenience you, sir, walking here is fine? _

But Graves was digressing. Two men. One house.

Graves, despite what his employees might say, was only a man. He had some...stirrings. 

Seeing Credence only in a nightshirt, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone, his milky thighs? Well. Christ.

And Credence had no damn clue.

*

Mister Graves was. Well. Um. He was very  _ handsome,  _ if Credence could say. He was quite...strong. Boxy. Sharp and thick like the advertisements for talkies, a dashing hero, a lover…

Well. Credence  _ shouldn’t  _ presume to say anything quite so salacious. 

He was trying to be good, but then - oh, God. Then Mister Graves would roll his sleeves up to his elbows when working, his muscled arms so perfect for kissing and cuddling, or he’d dab on his aftershave that made Credence want to lean in and burrow and hide, close enough to whisper in his ear. 

Or, shamefully, he would leave the door open while shaving, shirtless and glistening, and Credence would need to excuse himself to his room and cuddle a pillow until the queer stirrings in his belly would leave him alone.

It was that beast inside him, the darkness, he was certain. If he let it out, it would devour dear Mister Graves whole. 

Credence wasn’t sure  _ how,  _ but it would.

*

Graves was not a good man. Not really even a nice one. He had seen,  _ lived  _ things no man should ever see or live.

It was with this justification that he allowed such beauty in his life, crept down to Credence’s bedroom at night, peeked in to see his pale face, his blankets, thrown back in the hot New York August, his sleep shirt, crinkled and accidentally shifted to reveal his soft, pretty cock. 

He was only looking. 

Credence shifted in his sleep, mumbling something before turning over, and  _ oh,  _ no artist could paint the slope of his hip, the curve of his waist -

His poor, needy cock, thickening gently as Credence whimpered.

Two men in one house. Graves knew the boy never gave himself release.

He was a dangerous vessel for a dangerous beast. He needed to be kept stable. It was with this justification that Graves cast a silencing charm and walked to the foot of the bed. 

It was if Credence could smell Graves arousal, as if their bodies were connected and yearning for one another. It must have been so, for Credence’s cock grew heavy and full, aching to look at as it rose gently and begged for attention.

Credence squirmed, a knit in his brow forming. Now that wouldn’t do. 

Graves whispered a spell of calm over the quiet room, thrumming with potential energy, and Credence’s face went slack, mouth falling open. Certainly asleep. Completely asleep.

Now what  _ did  _ the boy dream about?

It was a tricky thing, using Legilimency without waking a sleeping man, but Graves wasn’t an ordinary wizard. He let a hand drift to Credence’s thigh, holding him steady as his eyes slipped shut and he dipped inside Credence’s mind... 

Only flashes of images. The smell of cologne. A hard, masculine body pressed to his. 

Credence’s breathing hitch, and Graves gently pulled away from his dreams, pleasantly surprised.

So. His boy liked men. 

Graves was not a good man.

He shouldn’t do this.

He should. 

Graves exhaled gently, pressing Credence with images of a man grabbing his cock, a gentle pair of lips against his. Credence mewled in his sleep, toes curling. His cock was wide-awake, and Graves hand drifted to it, a press of his fingertips to Credence’s inner thigh, an image of someone gently pinning him to a soft bed, even, steady pressure on his frail body.

“...please…” Credence mumbled, now sporting a high flush. Graves unbuttoned his sleep shirt, letting it rub against his rosy nipples. “Mm…”

He returned to Credence’s cock, brushing the head of it with the back of his hand, making Credence arch and whine. So sensitive.

Graves didn’t need to supply his mind with too much, now. Credence began to imagine a heavier, wet touch between his legs, squirming to form an unsure rhythym. Credence began to arch and squirm in response, rolling over on his belly and finding release in his soft sheets.

Graves pulled his aching cock from his pajama pants, staring at his boys’ ass as Credence rocked into the bed. He stroked himself in time with Credence’s dream, his dream, their minds melted together in pleasure - Graves holding Credence down, rocking into him, whispering what a  _ good boy, sweet boy, so soft _ as their bodies moved together.

Credence moaned, or maybe Graves did. Credence’s hips rocked with urgency, and Graves worked himself twice as fast, bending over to inhale at Credence’s neck, eyes sliding shut to appreciate Credence’s tiny whimpers.

“...mm, please…”

“What’s that, baby?” Graves gasped.

“M-mister Graves,  _ more…” _

He was undone, spurting over his hand onto Credence’s back. Credence came with a whimper, a damp spot growing under his hips and his mind beginning to settle back to sleep.

Graves caught his breath, staring at the mess he made of the boy, his sweet, innocent boy. He had no idea…

He wouldn’t have any idea. Graves could clean him up with magic. He could do whatever he wanted, in these quite hours. Mark him and heal him, ruin him and clean him -

He shouldn’t. No. He truly shouldn’t.

But his soft cock was already in hand, and Graves groaned in relief as he began to piss on the boy, who shifted in his sleep. He soaked his shirt, which now clung to the arch of his back. He  _ shouldn’t,  _ Graves thought, as he moved himself lower, until

he was pissing between the boy’s thighs, the swell of his ass, and finally slowing to a stop.

Graves was disgusted with himself, light headed with arousal.

A gruff, muttered spell, and Credence was clean. And Graves was gone.

He wouldn’t do this again. He  _ wouldn’t. _


	2. Credence Makes Some Friends His Own Age, and Graves Finally Snaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhhh dear
> 
> warnings for dub-con, aphrodisiacs, sex with strangers,

When Credence awoke - _oh._

The bed was wet.

Credence flushed in shame, tears prickling to his eyes.

Graves mustn't see.

*

Graves couldn’t meet the boy's eyes, giving him a gruff _morning_ and turning to the newspaper. Credence’s shoulders were sloped, hunched over like he was _before,_ when he barely spoke in a month, when he locked himself away in a dark room and would only come out for meals.

Breakfast passed in silence.

*

Graves went off to work, barely even saying goodbye. Did Credence do something wrong? Had Graves changed his mind about him?

Credence was curled up on the couch, like he always was when anxious. Newt said that was good, to have a safe place to return to. Normally, that was his room, but he had a weird feeling that someone had been in there…

Nonsense. Graves would always keep him safe.

Perhaps he should go out. Get some air. Get some sweets for Graves return, make him feel better.

Yes. Credence nodded to himself, getting up to his dresser. That would do.

*

Credence always let Mister Graves decide what he’d wear. Sure, it was a bit...oh, maybe it was selfish, wanting Graves to think about his clothes, give him an extra bit of attention, but Credence couldn’t _help_ it. He liked when Mister Graves smoothed down his collar, fastened his cufflinks, brushed dust from his hunched shoulders. It felt nice. Like...like someone cared.

That was selfish of Credence. He certainly was wicked.

Credence picked some clothes Mister Graves approved of, something that made him hum his approval and look at him like he hadn’t eaten in a while.

It was all very odd. But Credence liked it.

Credence slipped on a thin shirt, a waistcoat, some soft trousers that buttoned at the hip. He regarded himself in the mirror: pale and skinny and ugly, lost in a rich man’s house.

Credence shook his head. Mister Graves forbade him saying such thing. He was...a handsome young man, and he could...have whatever he liked.

Yes. That’s what Mister Graves always said.

Maybe if Credence kept saying it, it would come true. Like ‘accio.’

*

The little sweets shop was only a few streets down. It still scared Credence every time, that Mary Lou could be around the corner, that some kidnapper could snatch him up.

But Mary Lou was dead. And he wasn’t worth any money. So he supposed he was alright.

“Morning, sunshine. Swell clothes, there.”

A man, perhaps older than Mister Graves eyed him up and down. Credence felt oddly uncomfortable, like a piece of meat. His ‘thank you’ died in his throat, merely nodding shyly.

The man began to walk beside him, seemingly unaware of Credence’s discomfort.

“Where are you going, sweet? All on your lonesome?”

“J-just down the street, a bit.”

“Business, or pleasure?” The man’s tongue curled oddly around the word. Credence was suddenly reminded of _him,_ the man who wore Mister Grave’s face and cornered him in alleyways -

“What’s this all about?”

Credence was quickly growing tired of this situation. Now, two _other_ men were on his _other_ side. They must be about his age, sleeves rolled up and suspenders stretched over their chests. Their shirts were unbuttoned in the summer heat. Credence flushed, looking away.

“Uncomfortable, sir?”

It took Credence a second to realize what they were talking about. He shrugged, staring at his shoes.

“Buzz off, old man. He’s a pal of ours.”

“That’s right.”

The two seemed to talk with each other, rather than over each other. It made Credence dizzy, but he managed to nod. The older man gave them an ugly look, before slinking off.

“You alright, kid?”

“Where are you off to?”

“We can walk you there.”

“Safe as pastures.”

Credence giggled, fear forgotten. “I’m getting chocolate for Daddy. You don’t have to come…”

“We’ll walk you there.”

“It's decided.”

“What’s your name?”

“Do we know your Pa?”

Credence looked from one to the other as they talked. They must be brothers, both having brown, curly hair and smatterings of freckles. If he squinted, they looked like a certain man with a suitcase…

“Hello?”

“You like what you see?” One grinned. Credence flushed.

*

The sweets shop was all glassy and blue. The young lady behind the counter had a pale, yellow dress and a headband on. Credence immediately felt embarrassed for the two young men, and grasped one shirts to begin buttoning them.

Unbeknownst to Credence, the man gave his brother a _look,_ patting Credence’s arm in gratitude. Credence turned to the other brother, who somehow had half the buttons on his shirt undone, his muscular chest bulging.

Credence’s lips parted, fingers trembling on the white buttons. The man chuckled, petting his hair.

“Thank you, doll.”

Credence dropped his gaze to the floor and saw -

A wand. They were magic, too.

Credence looked up, glowing. The man smiled.

“You’re one of us, huh?”

“Y-yes. I am.” Credence felt quite proud to say that.

The young woman coughed, giving the brothers a dirty look.

“C’mon, Mary. He’s a wizard. And awful sweet.”

Her eyebrow raised, before her drawn face settled in a smile.

“I hadn’t seen you in a few weeks, kid. The same for your daddy?”

“Yes, please.”

She filled a bag with dark chocolate truffles before hovering over some milk chocolate ones with roses on top.

“I didn't know you were magic, baby. You want to try some charmed candy? I’m sure daddy would like it.”

Credence blinked, unaware you could put magic in food, outside of making it. He couldn’t _embarrass_ himself in front of them.

“O-okay. Are they yummy?”

“Awfully.” She purred. “Why are you three still loitering in the doorway? C’mere.”

The brothers tugged him inside, a hand on his lower back, a hand on his wrist. Credence stumbled to the counter with them, catching himself on the glass case. One of them (older?) put a hand on his waist to steady him, rubbing gently. The other stroked his back. Credence squirmed, feeling...nice. They liked him. They were touching him gently, like Daddy.

“Do Daddy and Mommy get along well?”

Credence shook his head. “Um...He isn’t married.”

“No?”

“It’s just me and him…”

One of the brothers breathed a note of understanding.

“Is he your real father? Or is it…”

“Um.” Credence flushed.

“Do you and Daddy get along nice?” There was some inside joke in her voice, making the brothers touch him more firmly, massaging his tense muscles until he was leaning in to the touch.

“I think he’s mad at me. I don’t know what I did wrong.” Tears prickled at his eyes, and he was tugged into a firm chest, smelling oil, sweat, and _man._ Credence inhaled deeply as two strong hands wrapped around his waist and a leg nestled between his, rubbing gently. Credence squirmed, blinking through his tears.

“Poor baby. I’ll give you one of these to give Daddy, okay? Do you want to try one, and see if he’d like them?”

“...are they sweet?”

“They melt right on the tongue.”

“Yes, please.”

“So polite.” She sighed. Credence didn’t see her cast a notice-me-not on the windows, flipping the closed sign with a wave of her wand. She held the chocolate delicately between her gentle fingers, pressing it to Credence’s mouth. Credence turned his head away from the nice man to open his mouth, blushing as her fingers brushed his lips.

“Let it melt.”

He closed his lips obediently, thrumming with happiness as she traced his pink lips, before pressing her own to his.

Lipstick felt nice against his lips. Maybe Daddy could buy him a tube. Credence hummed desperately, the chocolate having melted away to something that made him feel tingly and hot.

“S-swallow, hon.”

With some effort, Credence did, thick and loud in the quiet shop. Someone groaned, thrusted against him.

Credence felt _really good._ Daddy would like this. _Anyone_ would like this, floating in warm, wet pleasure. He heard himself moan, someone speak, from very far away…

“It hit him _hard,”_ They were saying. “I didn't think he'd be so sensitive to it. What should we..?”

“Take the edge off, maybe. Send him home.”

“If he’s this drunk, he won't remember too much.”

“Poor thing, I feel awful.”

The thigh between his legs felt really good. Credence moved his hips against it, deciding he liked the feeling of squirming against a warm, heavy weight.

 _“Shit,_ feel this.”

Someone's hand was in his pants. That felt the _best,_ so far. Credence whined happily, drooling as someone pressed their fingers in his mouth.

“Shh, baby. We’ll take care of you…”

One of the men whistled. “Lucky boy. Look at _this.”_

“Move, I wanna suck _all_ of that.”

“I think he likes me better.”

“Shut up, you two. Baby, can you hear me?”

The fingers were thrusting in his mouth, now. Credence moaned in response, heavy eyelids opening. The lady was blushing at him, panting. She pressed cool hands to his forehead.

“You feeling okay?”

Credence nodded, sucking on whoever was in his mouth. A groan, a whispered _fuck._

“We can walk you home, okay? This is my fault, baby, I didn't think this was your first time having that…”

“He ain’t complaining.”

“Home? Home.

_Daddy!_

Daddy would be at home, soon. Daddy would take care of him, he could have some too, and they’d both be happy again and -

Credence purred, swallowing hard and humping up into the hand stroking his aching cock. He felt a weird pressure in his tummy, like he drank too much or ate too much and - _oh -_

His trousers were shoved down to his thighs and the fingers left his mouth. Credence mewled, chasing them. Someone pulled him into a deep kiss, a warm tongue pressing insistently inside his mouth and then there was a _finger inside-_

And oh, now he was _itching_ and _empty_ inside. He rocked back into the finger, and someone whispered a spell and then it was _wet_ inside and oh -

Credence felt like he needed to use the bathroom. He opened his mouth, blushing, to tell someone, but he was being kissed so fiercely that everything came out in moans.

“Let go, baby. That’s it.”

Credence did, and his stomach clenched, and he _wailed-_

*

The two brothers helped him home. He was still so hot, and he kept trying to strip out of his itchy clothes, the brothers holding his arms or dragging him into alleys and sucking on him until he calmed down.

That was very nice. He pawed against their muscles, forgetting why their shirts were buttoned up.

“I-is this home, baby?”

He sounded breathless, too. Credence smiled, sleepily.

“Daddy…”

“Uh-huh, baby, is this where Daddy and you live?”

“Yeah…”

“You have a key?”

“Mm…”

_“Baby.”_

Credence fished the key out of his pocket, stumbling to the door. He couldn’t get it in the lock, so he handed it to one of them. He opened the door and nudged him inside, placing the key in Credence’s sweaty palm.

“Baby, I want you to go to bed and touch yourself. Then have lots of water when you wake up, okay? Can you hear me?”

Credence nodded, grabbing at his arm to pull him inside-

“No, no, baby.”

Credence pouted, hugging himself tightly. “You don’t like me..?”

“No, _no,_ baby…”

“We just - we gotta go. Go sleep, baby. Go on.”

Credence nodded, lip quivering. Daddy would be home soon. It’d be okay.

“That’s right. Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

*

It was a little later than Graves was anticipating. He winced. Poor Credence probably thought he hated him.

He flooed right home, and was met with a white, wax bag of chocolate, a little crinkled. Credence had tried to write a note, but that was similarly crumpled, only the word _Mister_ written on it.

Something was very wrong. Graves sniffed the note.

Oh, shit.

Poppy seed. A light aphrodisiac, but potent all the same. Credence was a hell of a light weight, too, only used to sacramental wine. Some magic shopkeeper probably convinced him -

A moan.

Graves paved the floor. He should let him sweat it out. He could _not_ go in there.

_“Daddy..?”_

No. No, this wasn't happening.

“Daddy, Daddy-!”

Fuck.

Graves headed for Credence’s room, ripping off his coat.

*

Credence was grinding into the bed, shirt half off, glasses of water empty on the bedside table, trousers off.

Graves froze in the doorway. The smell of come was thick, making his mouth water as he watched Credence’s ass flex, covered only by thin undergarments. They were wet with come and, quiet possibly, urine.

Graves wanted to clean them with his mouth.

“Credence…”

The boy turned over, eyes glassy, a tent in his crotch. His abdominal muscles were tended, each orgasm made harder and harder.

“Daddy, _please-”_

Fuck it. He’d had a long day at work. He _deserved_ this sweet boy, all spread out for him. He spelled off his clothes, working his half-hard dick to a throbbing solid. Credence practically arched off the bed, mesmerized by Graves thick foreskin, the dribble of pre-come down his shaft.

He pinned Credence to the bed with a spell, making him moan in pleasure at the thick, comforting weight against his wrists. Credence thruster up, weak against the spell. Graves ripped his wet under things in half, making him mewl and tremble.

Just as Graves thought. Come, urine, a needy, aching cock. What more could a man need?

He deepthroated the boy easily, making him wail and thrust against his throat. Graves didn't gag, only hummed, eagerly cleaning his boy. He let a curious finger slip the the boy’s entrance. Credence spread his legs weakly, raising his hips -

Slick. Lubricant.

Someone was already here.

Graves saw red. His voice was low and even.

“Credence.”

“Y-yes, Daddy?”

“Did you do this? Make yourself all wet inside?”

“N-no, Daddy.”

“Did someone _fuck_ you?”

“No, Daddy! No, no…”

Credence shook his head feebly. Graves snarled. He grabbed Credence’s legs, throwing them over his shoulders and lining himself up.

If his boy wanted to be a slut, he’d get fucked like one.

Graves thrust home in one, making Credence scream. Graves blinked. Tight. Wet.

He was a virgin. He hadn’t been lying.

Graves really didn’t give a shit, at this point.

He fucked into him with long, punishing thrusts, making Credence moan and cry. There wasn’t any pain, only hot, thick _Daddy_ inside him. Credence desperately rocked to meet him, so close to that all-consuming pleasure…

Graves thrust up, up, _up,_ and then Credence was broken, having _finally_ recoeved a blow to his prostate. Credence came _dry,_ balls pulled up painfully, breathing in a sharp hiss of pain through his teeth. Credence blinked in panic, looking up at Daddy with wild eyes.

“I-I have to-”

Graves growled, thrusting harder, pressing down on his bladder. Credence shrieked, grabbing his cock futilely. He began to sob.

“D-daddy, I really need to go.”

Graves leaned his forehead against Credence, panting.

“Then go.”

“Daddy, _please-”_

Graves pressed a heavy hand to his tummy, making Credence thrash against the magic that pinned him to the bed.

“No, Daddy-! N-no…”

And then, relief. Credence was still bent in half, his softening cock spraying urine onto his own chest, his own _face._ Graves bent down to lap at the urine romsing his neck, flowing down his chin.

“Oh, Daddy…”

Credence flushed as he soaked himself, making Daddy sigh and kissed his hair, his thrusts slowing, just a little.

“Good boy, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s gonna clean you up. Just let go…”

Credence squirmed, stream slowing. He felt tacky and cold. Graves kissed his temple, before cleaning him with a wave of his hand.

“See? All better.”

“Thank you, Daddy…”

Credence yawned, sleepy. His eyes drifted shut before Graves having him a slap on the thigh.

“Not yet, baby. Daddy’s not done.”

Credence whimpered as he was dragged to the foot of the bed and flipped over, Graves standing and perfectly in line to fuck him. Graves cast another lubrication spell, swatting at his ass.

“Who’s boy are you?”

“Y-yours, Daddy…”

“You’re all mine?”

Another spank.

“Y-yes, Daddy!”

“Then why did you let other people touch you?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

Another spank, a tight grope, too. Credence moaned.

“I didn’t-I just wanted to get Daddy a treat…”

“Aw, my sweet baby. That’s fine. Just remember-”

Graves grabbed his hips and _pulled,_ just as he thrust in, as hard as he could.

“ _Ah-!”_

“-you’re _Daddy’s_ bitch.”

Graves fucked him like an animal, rutting and snarling, a hand tugging at his hair.

Credence was weeping, begging for more, begging for less, begging for _Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…_

“Da- _ddy…”_

Credence was interrupted by a thrust.

“Yes, boy?”

“Love you, Daddy.”

Fuck. Graves came with a roar, making Credence jump at the hot spray inside of him. Graves fucked through his orgasm, panting and swearing.

“Fuck, baby...I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry.”

“Daddy, I _liked_ it.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy _needs_ this. I need it…”

“I know, Daddy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Why was he still inside?

Then Credence felt a warm heat.

Graves groaned in relief, gently rocking inside. Credence squirmed.

“Too full-!”

“Hold still, baby. Daddy’s almost done.”

That’s how Credence fell asleep, Daddy sighing, piss bubbling out of his hole and down his thighs.


	3. 1st Ending - Bad One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY hoooo boy uh okay so heres what im thinking theres gonna be two endings because i cannot decide anything
> 
> this ending is the sad one, where graves continues his grossness and obliviates credence afterwards.

Credence blinked against the warm, morning light in his room. The curtains were open, the bed warm.

“You’re up.” 

Mister Graves. He looked as handsome as ever, floating a plate of crepes, strawberry, and cream over to Credence’s lap. Credence flushed, sitting up as quickly as he could to accept the plate.

“G-good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, my boy. How are you feeling?” 

Graves was looking at him strangely, as though he was worried.

“I feel fine, sir. I slept really well last night. I think.”

Credence furrowed his brow, fiddling with a strawberry leaf.

“Credence?”

“I’m sorry, Mister Graves. I’m doing quite well.”

“Good. Eat up, my boy.” 

And if there was a faint tremor in Graves voice, well. Credence was too shy to mention it.

*

Graves let out a shaky sigh, setting the plates to scrub in the sink.

He had debated obliviating him, debated  _ losing  _ that moment in time, weighed the risk of Credence waking up and running from the house, from the disgusting  _ thing  _ Graves was. Debated jacking off in that clotted cream to see if there’d be a spark of recognition in those beautiful eyes - 

No. Christ, no. 

The boy said he loved him, but he was high as a kite. This was mercy, he was sure. Safety. Hell for Graves, but what did that matter? 

There was just one problem. Now that he knew what he could do, what he could get away with…

Well, why  _ shouldn’t  _ he do it again? 

Graves felt the urge to vomit in the sink, turning away from the floating bubbles and brush. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was disgusting. But he wanted that boy so  _ bad. _

*

Mister Graves had been looking at Credence differently. Credence could feel his hot, heavy gaze, making him flush and turn away. He took more care in choosing Credence’s outfits, adjusted the lines of his trousers, buttoned and re-buttoned his shirts. 

And...and everyday he told Credence how good he was. How special he was. Once, he held Credence tight and cradled his head, saying  _ you ought to go, Credence. You’re much too good for a man like me. _

But Mister Graves was the best man Credence knew, so he wasn’t sure what to think of that.

*

Graves should take a sleeping drought. That’s what he should do. He should ignore aching  _ need  _ between his legs and get some sleep.

But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Credence writhing under him -  _ felt  _ the hot, wet heat of his tight ass, saw his face go slack in orgasm, heard him whimper against his thrusts.

_ I love you, Daddy. _

Graves growled, kicking off his sheets. He cursed himself as he rolled out of bed, walked to Credence’s room, cracked open his door…

So beautiful and still, just like that first time. He was on his side, facing the door, clutching a pillow in his sleep. Graves wanted to slap him awake, tug on his silky hair until the boy was buried on his dick. He wanted to crawl and kiss his feet and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to make  _ love _ to him, licking away his anxiety and watching him fall apart.

Graves wanted. And he always got what he wanted.

He paced over to the bed, stroking Credence’s hair, a thumb on Credence’s lips.

Sound asleep.

Fuck. What plush, pretty lips.

Graves crawled onto the bed, knees by Credence’s shoulders. He bit his lip against a sigh as he freed his cock, marveling how delicate Credence looked under the throbbing, red meat. 

Graves worked himself slowly, moaning at the drag of foreskin over his sensitive head. 

Graves knew he should cast a silencing charm, a spell for calm, keep Credence  _ asleep.  _ But the ugly truth was that Graves  _ wanted  _ him to wake up, looking up at him in confusion, lips parted in surprise. 

Credence shifted in his sleep, swallowing and sighing, warm breath against Graves twitching dick.

Graves inched closer, the  _ very  _ tip pressed to Credence’s bottom lip, foreskin ticking his cupid’s bow on every other stroke. Pre-come oozed and dripped onto his mouth, shining in the dark room. With a flick of his wand, Graves lit the candles, wanting desperately to see the glow on Credence’s face.

Fucking  _ marvelous.  _ So peaceful and safe…

He stroked faster, snarling, dragging his balls against the pillow his baby boy was snuffling into, crawling closer, closer, until he was rubbing against his mouth, butting against his lips.

Maybe it was some age-old instinct. Maybe it was some sick parody of something Credence had been denied - a pacifier, a thumb slapped out of his mouth.

Either way, Credence began to suckle, lips pursed, mewling.

Graves wasn’t made of stone. He pressed a thumb under the boy’s jaw, forcing it open, pushing himself between those pink, pretty lips and letting the boy drink his fill.

Credence stirred, whining,  _ lovely  _ vibrations playing along Graves shaft. He pulled out for a quick moment and slapped Credence’s cheek with his cock, saliva and pre-come splattering his pretty skin.

“Ah-!”

And Graves was back in that wet heat, Credence’s eyes and mouth open in surprise. Credence struggled for a moment, before meeting Graves’ eyes and melting.

Graves sobbed, turning Credence on his back and swinging a knee over to straddle his chest, weight carefully distributed on either side of Credence’s bony shoulders. Credence slurped him back into his mouth, moaning and clumsily reaching for his own crotch, palming himself and swallowing over and over. Graves gave an experimental thrust, shallow and quick. Credence whimpered as Graves’ balls slapped against his chin, and Graves snapped, bucking into his mouth.

Credence looked up at him, eyes watering, utterly adoring. 

Graves came with a wail, in Credence’s mouth, on his face, hating himself and yet feeling so  _ content. _

Credence continued to mumble against the head of cock, oversensitive and straining.

“More...want more…”

He licked and slurped at his foreskin, slipping against his softening cock. Graves groaned. Not again, he couldn’t, again…

“Thirsty, baby?” He said instead, voice cracking.

“Nn…”

Credence was too tired to sputter against the stream of urine, letting it coat his lips and dribble down his chin, tongue lazily licking his lips in curiosity. 

Graves slowed and stopped, panting above Credence. A glance confirmed that Credence was half-hard.

“Scourgify,” Graves mumbled. Then, “Obliviate.”

He clambered off the bed, listening for Credence’s even breathing to grow deep.

He glanced at the boy’s crotch, then pushed at him with Legimency.

Just a dream. A filthy, whorish dream.

Credence whimpered, knees falling apart, rolling onto his belly to find some friction.

Graves left quietly, feeling cold and bereft.

Sleep. He had work tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yucky yuck yuck 
> 
> the second ending is in the works! itll be happier and filthier and longer
> 
> comment kinks or ideas below if you have any ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	4. 2nd Ending - Good One! Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to a gigantic nerd y'all know who you are <3
> 
> hope it was worth the wait ;; warnings for religious guilt, internalized homophobia, and rimjobs MERRY CHRISTMAS

Credence awoke dizzy. His throat hurt a bit, his limbs felt heavy, but  _ oh.  _

It felt as though he’d been asleep for ages - tucked in and safe, well loved and coddled. 

He hummed, swallowing hard against the rasp in his throat.

“Mister Graves?”

A tray of breakfast appeared with a puff, a note explaining that he had to leave early for work, and that Credence should eat his fill and have a nice day without him.

The haze slipped away, then. Oh. That was a shame.

Credence dipped a finger in the cream on his crepe, frowning at the taste. Familiar. A little bitter, now. But perhaps that was his foul mood. Mister Graves was always so busy…

*

Graves was in his office, head in his hands. He was ashamed of running, but what else could he do? Fuck him until he woke up? Coo at him and spank him

until he cried? Feed him delicate bites of chocolate and strawberry? 

Fuck. Shit. Don’t think about his lovely mouth.

He growled against the warm stir in his belly, traveling lower, lower.

Perhaps he should check in on the boy. He could see his room, the house - just a safety precaution. For the obscurus, of course.

A wave of his hand, and the scene was before him: Credence, brow furrowed, licking at the cream on his fingers. 

_ “Mercy -!” _

He could remove memories, yes. But he couldn’t remove reactions to strong smells, tastes, muscle memory. Credence slurped and moaned and  _ oh,  _ was it his imagination or was his pretty little voice a bit hoarse..? 

Credence licked the  _ cream  _ off his crepes with adorable concentration, slurping at his fingertips dreamily. The strawberries, next, pressed to his pretty lips and moaned against. 

“Mm…”

Percival Graves, respected auror, bit down on a howl as he came in his own cupped hand. Credence had long since licked away the last of the cream, tucking into the delicate crepes. His soft, beautiful cock peeked out from the bottom of his sleep shirt, and his black hair kissed his shoulders. 

Percival looked, loved, and despaired.

*

“W-welcome home, Sir.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Percival?” Graves said, smiling. “You make me feel old, my boy.”

“Never, sir.” Credence croaked, and blushed.

“Under the weather, Credence? Let’s have some tea, hm?”

“I - I made dinner, sir…”

“Oh, you dear thing. Let’s sit at once.”

Credence followed him to the dining room, eyes downcast. Graves gasped.

“Credence…how lovely.”

A simple meal, for sure - soup, bread, some butter - but so fragrant and intimate that Graves felt an inconsolable fondness tear at his heart.

“Lovely boy.”

Credence bit his lip, shaking his head.

“I - I didn’t mean to - I cleaned out your larder, I’m sorry…”

“Then we’ll go shopping, it's  _ fine.” _

*

Credence slurped at his spoon, and flushed. Graves was watching him, smiling.  

As graceful as ever, he took the bowl in one of his big hands, sipping at it and nodding at the taste. Credence gaped. Ma would have  _ never  _ allowed that.

“Lovely, Credence. Perhaps we should get you some cook books. Do you have an interest in such a career?”

Credence squirmed. “Um. I never - I didn’t think about it,” He said, all in one breath. “I...have something to talk to you about.”

Graves put his bowl down, tilting his head in acquiescence. 

“N-not right now, but…”

“Never have frightening discussions on an empty stomach. That’s what Father always said.” 

“...your Father?”

“I’ll tell you later, if you eat. You’re so slight, my boy…”

Credence missed his hungry gaze, focused on picking up the bowl without spilling anything. He gave Graves a

hesitant glance, lifting it to his lips as he had seen. Graves nodded.

Graves almost moaned at his thick swallows, the line of his smooth, pale throat. Oblivious, Credence tilted the bowl farther, exposing more smooth skin. He swallowed, swallowed…

That sounded familiar.

A simple notice me not. A little quiet spell, and Percival’s hand was under the table, taking himself in a tight grip. 

Credence kept drinking, not noticing how his bowl never emptied. He set it down with a gasp, rubbing at the corner of his mouth.

“Some water.” Graves said, shaky. “Water would do you good, Credence.”

That, too, never ran dry. 

His hand squelched with magicked lube, the side of his fist squishing his heavy balls as he watched Credence’s little pink tongue dart to the corner of his lips to catch some water droplets. Credence sighed and rubbed his forehead, flushed.

“I...I feel so hot.”

Fuck. His magic couldn’t help reaching to meet him, arousing him.

“Then unbutton your shirt, dear boy.”

Graves could hardly believe that was his own voice. He could believe even less when Credence obeyed, eyes glassy and lips swollen as he unbuttoned his top two buttons, fingers shaking. 

Too much. Lord, too much.

Graves poor, abused cock sprayed under the table, all over Credence’s polished shoes. Graves sighed, reaching for his glass. 

“Drink a little more, Credence. You’re looking flushed.”

Credence whimpered in confusion. 

“Y-yes, Mister Graves.”

*

After dinner (a cleaning charm, a hand on Credence’s waist to help him up) they read in the parlor. Graves had an entirely too boring political review in his hands, while Credence worried at a copy of Religion Thru the Magick Ages. 

Neither were paying much attention to their books. 

Credence kept glancing over at Graves, eyes big and mournful. He was still flushed and trembling. At the seventh glance, Graves sighed, closing his book.

“What is it, boy?”

Credence immediately drew back, chin down. Damn it.

“You said you wanted to talk to me. At dinner.” He tried to make his voice just a bit softer. Credence swallowed and shrugged.

“It’s nothing important. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Tell me, Credence.”

Credence fiddled with the pages of his book, biting his lip.

“I wondered...are there churches here?”

Graves eyebrows shot up.

“In wizarding communities, you mean?”

Credence nodded.

“Few and far between, but yes. There are churches.”

A delicate pause.

“You wish to attend.”

Credence flinched, shaking his head.

“N-no, I just...I’m in need of confession.”

“Confession? I’ve told you before, you can talk to me about anything.”

Credence blushed, shaking his head again. 

“I don’t think so, Mister Graves. I don’t think you want to hear it.”

Graves raised a brow. 

“Try me.”

He patted the couch. 

“Sit with me.”

Credence dutifully rose from his chair, setting his book on the shelf and walking to his side. From there he froze, staring at his shoes.

“Sit.”

Credence didn’t. Instead, he slowly crumbled, face red and tears. He shook with sobs, shaking his head.

“Credence-?”

“You’ll kick me out,” Credence gasped. “You’ll  _ h-hate  _ me…”

He sank to his knees, resting his forehead on Graves’ leg.

“I’m sorry, Mister Graves, I’m so sorry.”

Graves let him cry it out, stroking his dark hair and soft cheek.

“Credence,” He whispered. “Credence, tell me.”

Credence shook his head.

“Breathe, my boy. Look at me.”

With some difficulty, he did. Graves sighed, smoothing his hair out of his face and wiping his tears. 

“I’m not going to kick you out. I’m not going to hurt you. No matter what you say.”

At that moment, Graves realized he was destroyed. Credence was his undoing. It didn’t matter if Credence confessed he wanted blood - Graves would cut out his own heart for Credence’s shy smile. 

“Y-you promise?” Credence hiccuped.

“I promise.”

For the briefest moment, Credence looked…well,  _ petulant.  _ And then -

“I’ve  _ sinned,”  _ Credence gasped. “I am contrary to natural law and am closed to the gift of life.”

“Credence…” Graves whispered, hopelessly lost.

“I’ve thought of  _ men.  _ One man,” Credence’s lower lip trembled and  _ oh,  _ he was beautiful. “I can’t stop thinking of you, Percival.”

He was undone. 

Graves hoisted him onto his lap. 

Kissing Credence was nothing like he’d imagined, nothing like he’d done before. He had fantasies of him soft and yielding, shocked and weeping. But his Credence - _ his  _ Credence - wept against his lips, pressing into him over and over again.

“My boy. My beautiful boy. There is no sin here.” Graves held him as close as he dared, suddenly afraid in the light. “I must confess, as well.”

Credence shuddered, melting into his shoulder. 

“I’ve done more than dream of you, Credence.” Graves whispered, disgust melting his stomach. “I’ve watched you sleep.  _ T-touched  _ you. At night, when you couldn’t remember.”  _ And couldn’t say no. _

Tears sprung to Graves eyes.

“My boy, I understand if you want to leave. I’m sorry, beautiful.”

Credence shook his head. “I’ve dragged you to hell.”

“Never.” 

“Y-you want me? As I want you?”

“Credence,” Graves groaned,  _ “Yes.” _

Credence held his shoulders tight, grinding down hard onto Graves crotch. Yes, still aroused from supper. Graves thought, distantly. And then, oh god.

“Cre - dence!” He gasped, the only word he could remember.

“S-sorry, I’m  _ sorry.” _

Graves grabbed his hips to help steady

him, thrusting up to meet him. Credence gasped and arched, kissing him again.

“Can I - can we - please?”

“Anything you want, beautiful. Anything.”

“I think I need you inside. Please.”

Graves wheezed out a laugh. 

“So polite. Okay. Okay, my boy.”

He helped Credence with his pants and underclothes, spelling off his shoes and socks until Credence was half naked in his lap. Credence blushed, suddenly very shy and squirmy. 

“Beautiful. I’ll  _ worship  _ you…”

“Just - want you.” Credence threw his arms around Graves shoulders, as though afraid he’d lose his nerve. “Please?”

“Be patient, it’ll feel good…”

“You weren't patient.” Credence mumbled.

Well. He deserved that. 

“Touché, you little brat.”

Credence moaned at Graves slick fingers. 

“How -?”

“This’ll be a fun addition to our magic lessons, don’t you think?”

“Y-yes, oh!”

Graves experimented, wrangling Credence down until he could slow their pace. Credence bit his lip and whimpered.

_ “More.” _

“Soon.”

Credence liked slow circles instead of scissoring, from what Graves could tell from his moaning. 

Another finger, then. He kissed Credence to help with the intrusion, sucking on his lips and nudging their foreheads together.

“How are you feeling?”

“S-so good, Mister Graves.”

“Oh, I’m Mister Graves, now?” 

A crook of his fingers had Credence squealing.

“I loved it when you said my name. My Credence.”

“Per - Percival…” Credence said, shyly. 

He was rewarded with another finger, rubbing until Credence relaxed enough to let it pop inside.

“You okay?”

Credence’s brow was furrowed. Graves frowned, kissing his head and replenishing the slick on his fingers with a whispered charm. He leaned back against the couch and trailed his other hand down Credence’s soft stomach, stroking slowly and pausing at the boy’s aching erection.

“May I?”

“P-please touch me.”

Graves stroked him hesitantly, his fingers just a soft, loose hole for Credence’s cock.

“Touch me, please!”

Well, alright then.

Graves slid his wet palm down Credence’s cock, brushing his balls lightly before gripping him hard and tugging up.

Credence groaned, falling back on his fingers easily. 

“So good for me, Credence.”

“Please, please-”

“You’re ready for me?”

“You won't hurt me,” Credence gasped. He opened his eyes, looking down at Graves. He was flushed, eyes half-lidded, long hair sticking to his face with sweat. “I trust you.”

Graves buried his face in his neck. He wouldn’t last long, not if he looked at Credence now. He had been a vision in sleep, but  _ now?  _

Graves couldn’t go back, now. No more bullshit.

He undid his trousers, slicking himself until he was dripping. He slicked Credence as well, his hips stuttering as Graves helped him up.

“Take your time,” Graves managed. “It’s up to you.”

Credence sat slowly, his hands covering Graves where they rested on his hips.

_ “-nn!-” _

Graves exhaled, hard, talking him through it.

“More slick?”

Credence nodded. 

Graves helped him up again, mumbling the incantation again.

“Try it now.”

Credence sank down farther, moaning. 

“Fuck!”

The head of Graves cock was quite happily snuggled in Credence’s wet, tight heat. He bit his lip  _ hard  _ to keep from thrusting up.

“N-now?”

Credence rocked a bit before easing all the way down, gasping in relief as he was filled up.

“Good?”

Credence nodded frantically, collapsing onto Graves shoulder. His voice was thick when he finally spoke.

“I - it feels  _ right.” _

“I’ve - I’ve had you before. Your body must remember.” 

“I want to remember, this time.” Credence said. “...can you get memories back?”

“...yes.”

“Then I want to remember everything else, too.”

“Credence-”

“I need to.” Credence tipped his chin up. “Percival, I need to know.” Years sprang to his eyes, again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was scared. And I’m selfish. And fucked up.” Graves choked. 

Credence rocked down on him. 

_ “Unh-!” _

And again.

“Credence-”

And again. 

“Baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself-”

“Please, I want to remember.”

“You’ll remember, I’ll show you everything-”

“You promise?”

_ “Yes-!” _

Credence kissed him, rocking his hips to meet Graves. Graves held him close, and Credence held him  _ back. _

This was so much fucking better. 

He slid his hands under Credence’s shirt, soaked with sweat and tears to almost be see-through. He felt his strong muscles under his palm, his ribs, his heart beat. 

Credence undid the collar of his shirt, the first three buttons. He pressed his delicate fingers along his collarbone, ducking down to kiss his neck and rest his head against his skin.

Credence sobbed when he came, a thick rope between them. Graves rubbed the mess into Credence’s pale skin, massaging his belly and hips.

Credence began to squirm.

Supper.

Water.

Y’know, Graves really wasn’t that sorry,

“M-mister Graves-!”

Graves snarled, fucking up harder.

“I’ve got you, Credence. Let go.”

Credence squeezed his eyes shut, squeezing the head of his soft cock. He shook his head.

Graves was gonna come, he was gonna come  _ hard  _ watching Credence’s desperate, pretty face - 

He took Credence’s hand away, delighting in the spurt of wetness that followed. 

“N-no…”

Credence squirmed away from his thick cock, trying to relieve the pressure on his poor bladder. Graves grabbed his hips and put him back where he belonged. 

“Good boy.”

Credence sobbed in relief and pleasure, warmth spreading through Graves clothes and down Credence’s legs.

Graves ground Credence down again as he came, instinctively trying to fill him up. 

“Ah…”

Credence hid his face in Graves neck, mortified. 

“That felt so good, beautiful, didn’t it?”

Credence nodded.

“Good.”

He cleaned up the mess with a snap of his fingers, his soft cock slipping out Credence’s poor hole. 

“Credence, I’m sorry…”

“Felt so nice,” Credence said, dreamily. “Liked it.”

*

Graves helped him in the shower, pressing the fluffiest towel he had to Credence’s skin. Credence’s bliss didn’t fade - in fact, he purred at the suggestion of spending the night in Graves’ bed.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“Mmhm.”

Graves carried him in, setting him down in the pillows as gently as he could.

“Anything you need, baby? There’s a glass of water on the nightstand if you wake up in the night, and I’ll be with you…”

Credence flushed and squirmed. 

“I feel sticky. Inside.”

Graves paused. Credence gathered his knees under him, face still snuggled against the pillows.

“I’ve spoilt you, haven’t I?” Graves purred, right beside his ear.

“Muscle memory.” Credence mumbled, sleepily.

Graves knelt behind him, rubbing his cheeks before gently spreading them. Credence sighed as Graves massaged him open, pressing kisses to his sore hole. He hummed in delight when Graves pressed his tongue flat against him, broad licks that made his cock twitch. 

Graves slurped at the taste of his own semen, pressing open mouthed kisses until Credence was clean. 

“Better?”

“Mm-mm.”

Graves chuckled again.

“Spoiled.”

He alternated between long, wet licks and jabbing his tongue into Credence’s hole. Credence rocked against the bed minutely, whimpers muffled in the pillow. His orgasm felt slow and gentle after Graves gave him a particularly hard suck, making him boneless and tired.

Graves waved a hand over his body, cleaning away his sweat and his come so he could sleep better.

Credence hummed and curled up against the pillow.

“When I wake up..?”

“You’ll remember everything.” Graves said, a bit mournfully. It’d be so easy to wipe it all away…

“Thank you, Percy.” Credence said, with a sleepy smile.

God damn it.

Graves climbed into bed beside him, stroking his hair.

“Have you been taking your sleeping stuff?”

“...no.”

Credence narrowed his eyes, suddenly a bit more lucid.

“Mister Graves.” 

Graves held up his palms in placation, calling the potion over and taking a long swig. 

“Bleh.”

“Should have been drinking it all along.”

“Just for that, I’ll kiss you.”

Credence screwed his face up at the taste. 

“Ugh!”

“Yeah.” Graves pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

“...Mister Graves?”

“Mm?”

“You didn’t do anything...bad, to me. Did you?”

Graves tensed. “That’s for you to decide when you wake up. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

Credence mulled that over. 

“Hold me?”

“Of course.”

They both fell into a fitful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhh man!! i wanted to leave it open ended but comment below if you'd be interested in an epilogue! as always, im sorry god and jesus


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